Vampiro di Piacere - The Lost Race
by DracoLover
Summary: And 'The Lost Race' isn't the translation... Draco's in a predicament though he doesn't know it. He is now the chosen prey for an ancient race now only with two remaining survivors...
1. The Lost Race - Vampires of Pleasure

Vampiro di Piacere - Prologue 

**Disclaimer: All Harry Potter characters and events don't belong to DracoLover.  Don't kill her… me… please…**

**Author's Note: You know, I still desperately want to watch Queen of The Damned… I'm becoming a vampire by sleeping in the day and waking up at 8:00pm already!! I'm becoming insane!!!  (runs off screaming insanely…)**

**Characters:            Setticemia Piacere (Blood poisoning Pleasure) {new teacher of Divinations}**

**                        Bestemiare Goccia (Blaspheme Drop) {1st year student}**

**                        Draco Malfoy {in his 7th year}**

"RUN YOU FOOL!!" Bestemiare screamed wildly while they ran through the burning walls of the castle.

"I am Mistress, I am!!" Setticemia screeched back.  They both stumbled through the quickly diminishing abode of darkness where for hundreds of years, they spent their time there, killing, crying, reproducing and living the paths of the living-dead.

"Catch them!!"

"Kill them!"

"Burn their stoned hearts!"

"Cleave their heads!"

"By Christ's power! Head our shouts and stop!"

"Come here and face us!"

"You may run but you cannot hide!"

"Destroy those demons!"

The catcalls and commands came from the survivor's backs.  They flew through the halls, their scratches bleeding, their powers fading.

"Run! We have to hide from them!" Bestemiare cried out, being so panicked of herself and her companion.

"But where?!"

"To the Tower! Let's fly!" the elder pointed forward and she sped off, Setticemia racing after her.

"Where did they go?" the groan of tire spread over the crowd of hunters.

"Maybe they flew out the window!"

"That can't be! The sentries are watching downstairs and outside.  Three villages are here hunting those demons!"

"Then where?"

"The Tower!"

"How will we do this?" Setticemia looked to the full blood moon.

"We must use our powers.  We have to curse this Tower and the rest of the castle," Bestemiare replied softly.

"Curse the Tower?! This Tower that has given itself up to our blood lusts and our own hunts for food and pleasure?! NO!" Setticemia bared her ghostly white fangs.

"We have no choice, my dear.  And don't you ever dare bare your fangs at me!" Bestemiare hissed coldly.

The younger one bowed her head, "I apologize, Mistress. It won't be repeated."

"Good." The elder nodded, "Let us begin the casting.  This will take a while.  Set the door, young one and hurry."

Setticemia bit her lip and a trickle of blood streamed down her chin.  Her finger brought out a tiny empty vial and it was filled with the blood of the undead in an instant.  As soon as it was filled, the wound healed and she handed it over to her superior.

Afterwards, she floated over to the door and placed her icy hands upon the iron and wood.

"_Gelare_," she hissed and from the corners onwards towards the center, the wood hardened and stiffened then started to sparkle with the brilliance of rock-hard ice.

"Bravado, my child!" Bestemiare clapped briefly.  "Let us start.  Here is my blood.  You know what to do with it, don't you?"

"Yes, my lady," Setticemia nodded and took the elder's vial.  "Once the moon is clear?"

"Yes."

"In a few more seconds… there!" she bared her fangs and glared at the moon.  The unusual reddish moon obliviated the passing clouds and an icy chill swooped up and around the castle.  "Prep eternita e suo non a morto!"

"To eternity and its undead!" Bestemiare called out in an echoing voice.  The distant shouts of the hunters stopped and the ground trembled with anticipation.

"We call unto thee! Cast your flame and your perils upon this abode! Upon the abode of your children!"

"Keep us hidden, la mia signora!" Bestemiare threw up her hands, her thick wavy ebony hair flying with the chill winds.

"Give us power to cast our abode into true darkness!" Setticemia bellowed, the vial filled with her superior's blood in her hands.  "Cast us into eternity!" she screamed and she threw the vial to the ground, an earth rendering shudder following immediately.

"Cast us out of this world!" Bestemiare repeated again and again.  She threw down the vial containing Setticemia's blood to the stone floor.  The haunting grey clouds hovered in the sky, thunders bellowed loudly.

"Eternita!" Setticemia shrieked.

"Non a MORTO!" the elder clawed in the air, her long nails growing longer and longer, redder and redder; her eyes glowing bloody red and her hair streaking with white and black.

"What was that?" a peasant held up a pitchfork in fear after the slight quake that shook the castle and its foundations.

"Those demons are up to something!"

"But what?" more panicked voices issued.

"Let's get out of here!" several people turned and fled down the halls.

"NO!!" the leader shouted back but was unable to stop them from fleeing.  "You fools!" he stomped wildly, his torch flickering weakly.  "Bastards!" he shook his fist madly and turned towards the flight of stairs leading up the tower.  "Let's go! NOW!"

"B—but sir—"

The booming sound of thunder shook the castle's walls; the crackle of lightning shook their spines.

"But what?!" the leader glared menacingly.

"N—nothing…"

"Let's go! UP NOW!" the leader stomped up the stairs, the band of peasants and villagers behind him.

"Let us in you fiends!" came the harsh calls from behind the door.

Bestemiare turned towards the frozen door and looked at her follower and sneered, "Destroy the block.  Destroy them."

"Yes, mistress," Setticemia nodded and raised her arm towards the frozen door.  "Esplodere," she merely hissed and the door exploded into shards and sickles of ice and wood.

"There they are—" the peasant at the door paused and started to back away, his eyes wide with fear and his mouth hanging open.  "SIR!" he scrambled to the back and ran for his life.

"Get him," the looming woman said softly.  In a second, the crowd fell to their feet as the sudden whoosh of the younger demoness flew by them, chasing after the screaming wretch.

In a matter of seconds, the shrill cries of the panicked and _dying_ peasant were heard through the echoing walls of stone.  The crowd trembled in the stairway, the ominous figure standing over them, looking down on them.

"We'll take you on!" the leader stood up weakly, his knees shaking with fear.

"I'll take you by myself.  I'll take all of you by myself." Bestemiare jeered.

The leader was taken back for a moment but he lunged forward, his long sword in hand, his torch waving in his other arm.

"Esplodere," the woman snarled through her bared fangs.  The charging man instantly screamed and then exploded, bits and pieces of flesh and muscle flying in every direction.

The crowd instantly dispersed as they stumbled carelessly down the steep staircase.

"Morire."

"Mistress, I finished those in the halls and those outside.  I let some escape," Setticemia said as she walked up the stairs, lined with sprawled corpses, terrible and haunting death masks upon each and every face.

"Wonderful, child.  The curse shall take place in a matter of seconds.  Let us be off!" Bestemiare floated a few inches above the bloody ground.  "Did you take your fill?"

"Yes, mistress," Setticemia licked her dark red lips.  She flew towards her mistress silently.

"Let us be off, as I say," the elder creature whispered and they flew towards the blood red moon and the incredibly dark starless sky.


	2. Part 1 - Beginning of the Beginning... o...

**Vampiro di Piacere**

**Disclaimer: You know the drill…**

**Author's Note: I figured you people would get mad if I didn't put in the real beginning of the story… so here it is! Review and I'll see if I'll continue to upload more chapters… Oh yeah, _la mia preda_ is _my prey_ in Latin if I'm not mistaken… REVIEW I SAY YOU! REVIEW!! (Oh yeah, I won't upload unless at least 3 people review and tell me to continue this story…)**

**Part 1**

**Characters:      Setticemia Piacere (Blood poisoning Pleasure) {new teacher of Divinations}**

**                        Bestemiare Goccia (Blaspheme Drop) {1st year student}**

**                        Draco Malfoy {in his 7th year}**

"A new year, my last year," the bleached blonde sighed as he got off the carriage, the two lummoxes trailing behind his quick steps.

"Hurry up! I don't want to miss the Sorting Ceremony this year!" He yelled as the two ran up the stairs after him.  "Ah!" he stopped abruptly.

"I apologize," a girl bowed in front of the 7th year student.

"Watch where you're going next time!" Draco snapped after brushing his robes and storming towards the Great Hall.  "Stupid 1st years…" he muttered.

"We have a new Divinations teacher at last," Zabini whispered to Draco.

"Who is it now? What happened to the sick teacher Trelawney?" Draco looked up at Professor McGonagall who was unrolling a scroll.

"I don't know exactly.  I heard she went insane after seeing something in her tea leaves," Blaise shrugged.

"She always sees _something_ in those tea leaves!" Draco smirked.

"You have a point there," Goyle joined in as the Slytherin table erupted in laughter.

"Calm down now," Dumbledore held his hand to silence the whole Hall.

"The Sorting Ceremony shall begin!" McGonagall put her glasses on and began.

Anne-Connelly… Comet… Conner… Frances… Gallant…

"Goccia, Bestemiare!"

"Is she Latin or something?" Vincent whispered over to the blonde.

"She doesn't look Latin though," Draco shook his head.

They stared at the strangely mature girl that walked up the steps towards the stool where the Hat sat.  Her long black hair swayed as she turned and sat down quietly.  After barely being set down on her head, the Hat yelled _SLYTHERIN_.

The table erupted with cheers as she left the steps and walked towards her House Table.

"Be—what's your name again? It's kind of long," Pansy leaned towards the first new girl that year.

"Bestemiare, but you can call me Beste," the girl replied.

"_Are_ you Latin?" Vincent asked her.

"Err… actually, I'm not," Beste flushed.

"So why is your name Latin?"

"Well, it means _Blaspheme Drop_ in Latin," the new girl rolled her eyes.

"Interesting name," the blonde interrupted.

"Was that an insult or a mere statement?" she eyed the boy.

"Draco, Draco Malfoy," the boy grinned, "and it was neither.  It was a comment."

"Thank you, then, Mr. Malfoy," Bestemiare nodded.

"SLYTHERIN!" the Sorting Hat bellowed and an English boy walked over to the table proudly as the students cheered.

"Alright," a pleasant-looking woman entered the open room, the trapdoor swinging back down.  "I'm your new Divinations teacher for this year.  Ms. Trelawney has exited the premises and is now in a special facility for her purposes and condition she is in at the moment."

"What happened to her?" a Ravenclaw girl raised her hand.

"Hm… well, she had a premonition before classes and I suppose you know the rest of that story," the woman smiled.  "By the way, my name is Setticemia Piacere.  And yes, I have _some_ Latin blood in me if you wonder."

"So will you give us instructions on how to brew some tea or will we pull out parchment and write down _our_ premonitions?" a sly remark came from a Slytherin boy.

"For your information, Mr. Malfoy," Piacere started towards the boy, "you'll have a completely different time with me.  We won't use those methods—using tealeaves, charts, crystal balls and the like.  I'll teach you Tarot—good and bad of course—zodiacs and Chinese and Oriental ways of Divination.  We'll be using what muggles call _telescopes,_ and we'll try to communicate with spirits if you'll finish everything else."

A soft mumbling went through the class of Slytherins and Ravenclaws when she mentioned _communicate with spirits_.

"Professor?" a hand went in the air.

"Wondering how we'll communicate?" a glint in her eye awoke the class' excitement.  "Have you ever heard of séances?" the class looked up at her in attention.  "Well, we'll try that out.  If it doesn't work, then we'll try something else."

"I think I'll like her much more than that old Trelawney…" Pansy whispered over to Draco who nodded along.

"She doesn't seem like she's going to predict our deaths, which is good," Draco replied dully.

"Ah, Mr. Malfoy, this should be easy for you: what should _never_ be done when you're predicting _anything_?"

The voice startled the Slytherin and he stood up casually from his seat—still at a tea table.

"Oh, if you're wondering why on earth I haven't refurnished this place, I'll do it on the weekend.  I came here on short notice," Piacere tapped her fingernails on the table of some Ravenclaws.  "Now, Master Malfoy, what should never be done when you're predicting anything?"

"Err…" Draco looked at the teacher.  A soft voice hissed in his ear—_predict deaths_.  "Predict deaths?" his voice shook.

"Predict deaths?" the professor said thoughtfully then smiled, "correct!"

"What? But Trelawney always predicted deaths!" Draco stared at the teacher who leaned back against a wall.

"Well, she's been teaching you wrongly then.  Divination can lead a person to breakdowns, depressions, insanity, and, of course, death.  That's if you use it wrongly."

"So you're accusing our old teacher of false lessons and lies?" a Ravenclaw eyed the new teacher suspiciously.

"I'm not.  She showed you the ways to use them but she put the thoughts in you to fear using Divinations and you should, rightfully, but you shouldn't fear it all the time as if you'll see a Grim in leaves or something," Piacere replied.  The class nodded in agreement.  "Now, for starters, I'd like you to bring out just a small strip of parchment, your pens, and the new Divinations book.  It's entitled _What, When, Where, How and Why_ by Seerina C. Voyant.  I do hope you all have your books with you."

"Professor? To what page?"

"Alright, this is what you'll do: Scan the contents or index on any topic that interests you in the book.  Afterwards, write down the most favorite one you'll find and pass the papers to me."

"That's it?" Crabbe stated.

"You'll have to read that topic to find out if you really like it or not.  That's all.  When you're done, you will be free to leave as long as you pass your papers to me.  Oh, Malfoy, Patil, stay even after the others have gone, alright? I have to talk to you and a couple of other people."

"But why Professor?" Draco looked up from scanning the table of contents of his book.

"You'll see."

"Patil, you surprise me! You picked this as a topic?" Professor Piacere brushed her hand across the parchment where the thin script of the girl read _Theorized Ancient Races_.

"It just interests me…"

"Well, I'm not criticizing you.  It's quite a good pick, really.  Now go sit there at the front while we wait for the others," the teacher pointed to chair and Padma went to it and sat down.

"Professor, I'm finished," Draco Malfoy stood up and handed in his parchment.  It read _Vampires, the Race of Darkness_.

"Hmm… Interesting, Master Draco, interesting…" Piacere placed the paper into a box together with the others.  "Sit down next to Patil.  I'll attend to you once the rest of the class is gone."

"Yes, professor."

After the last student left, Professor Piacere drew a chair towards where Patil and Malfoy sat quietly.  After a few moments, there came knocking on the trapdoor.

"Come in, come in!" Piacere called and it swung open, a bushy-haired girl and freckled boy coming in.  "Good, Granger, Stonewall, come in and bring up a chair."

"Professor?" Hermione stared at the Slytherin that glared at her.

"Just come here and take a seat."

"Yes, professor," the two students nodded and brought two chairs towards the table where the other three sat.

"Now I'd like to talk to you about a simple contest.  You see, I called you four here since you're at the top of your houses, all except for Stonewall here who is still a 1st year student.  I'd like each of you to write a literary work.  It can be poetry, an essay, a letter or whatever.  It's about your favorite subject in Hogwarts and your favorite topic in that subject.  I'll give you the rest of the details later at dinner.  You may go now.  Tell the teacher that I called you, alright?" she patted the four and sent them out.

"Draco! Draco Malfoy!" a voice called the blonde Slytherin.  The boy turned and found the new 1st year girl running up to him.

"What is it?" Draco stopped, his lackeys lumbering to turn around behind him.  "Oh yeah, do you have an extra quill with you? Mine broke at Divinations earlier."

"I have one, here," Bestemiare opened her bag and took out a glossy black quill and handed it to her housemate.

"Black swan, eh?" the boy studied the quill.  "So you're better off than the rest?"

"I suppose you could say that," she shrugged.

"Why did you run up to me all of a sudden? Aren't we late enough for the next class? We're lucky enough that it's Potions."

"I need to ask you if you have a girlfriend yet.  Well, do you?" her eyes glittered with a strange sense.

"I—I don't at the moment but Pansy's at my tail and I don't like that pug-faced git."

"So… can I be your friend? What I mean is, can I stay with your group? I don't really like the other girls and I find that I am better at making friends with guys…"

"I barely know you but good thing you're a Slytherin or I'd laugh straight at you," Draco smirked wryly.

"Master Malfoy, may I?" she made a simple bow but it was a sort of bow that was addressed to a master from a slave.

"Master? Are you claiming that you will be my slave?" Draco raised an eyebrow; Crabbe and Goyle sniggered behind him.

"Well, if that's what it takes to be in your group, then so be it!"

"You're full of, what you call, a strange sense, you know that," Draco turned.  "Walk behind me.  We'll see if you have the potential."

"But Master," Beste touched the boy's shoulder lightly, "there is a price."

"What?" Draco whirled around.  "Slavery requires no price!"

"A price as simple as," she looked at him unwaveringly, "a kiss from the Master?"

Draco stared at her for a moment and looked at Crabbe and Goyle who looked at him unsurely.  "A kiss, eh? Why of all things?"

"It's as simple as the price of flesh and sweat."

"Very well! You've won this round for now but I'll make your stay here at Hogwarts a living hell!" Draco sneered and gripped the girl's shoulders tightly.  He quickly leaned forward and gave her a meaningless kiss.

"Mmph!" Bestemiare stepped back after the lip lock and as Draco began to quickly walk away, she ran up behind him, a glimmer in her eyes.  "That wasn't a real kiss, master!"

"We're late enough for Potions! Hurry up, will you!" Draco snapped as they ran down the stairs towards the dungeons.

"Ah, Mr. Malfoy and Ms. Goccia! Explain yourselves on why you are late!" Snape eyed the girl intensely.

"Ms. Piacere called me to stay.  She talked to four of us from different houses," Draco replied dully and went to his seat, his two lackeys following behind and his new _friend_ too.

"But Ms. Goccia?" Snape held the girl's shoulder tightly.  "Why are _you_ late?"

"Professor, forgive me.  My extra quills were with them and I needed them back so I had to wait," she lied simply.

"Very well.  Did you get your quills back?"

"Yes, sir."

"Two points off Slytherin though it pains me so.  Take out your assignments, returning students!" a quick shuffle and scuffle went about the students in the cold dungeon.

"Damn, I forgot my book!" Draco cursed and quickly picked up his bag then paused.  "Beste, bring my bag, will you?"

"Of course, Master," Bestemiare nodded and slung the slightly heavy black bag over her shoulder and trailed behind him.  "What book did you forget, master?"

"You have Divinations afterwards, right? I forgot that book there.  I need it for something.  Bring it to me after your class.  You _do_ know my schedule, don't you?"

"Herbology, master."

"Good.  Just bring it to me later," Draco waved lazily then quickly took his bag again then walked off, Crabbe and Goyle lumbering behind him.

"Of course, la mia preda…" Bestemiare nodded and walked towards her next class.


End file.
